


Reunions - Part 1

by TheLadyRebel



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed Multiplayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyRebel/pseuds/TheLadyRebel
Summary: Fillan McCarthy sees his sister, Gillian, after many years apart, but their meeting doesn't go as planned.





	Reunions - Part 1

Summer's end was fast approaching when finally I saw my sister again. The years that had passed since our last encounter had visibly denatured her. The expression she wore now was one of apprehension toward her surroundings, rather than the warm embrace of her smile that I had grown to love in my childhood. She was wary and it wasn't difficult to note of her trembling hands and careful steps as she made her way toward me.

At first, I thought she had recognized me. I could've sworn that I saw the corners of her mouth perk up in a smile, but I was dead wrong. This woman was not my sister, Gillian McCarthy. No smile touched her lips, no hospitality rested in the eyes that held my gaze. No; all I saw in my sister now was raw, untamed lust.

"Enjoying the view, are we?" came a voice that I hadn't heard for what seemed like an eternity; however, the tone of this voice was not one I was familiar with. It was laced with a carnality that I had never seen in Gillian before. I clenched my jaw at her words, and it was all I could do to hold back the screams of disapproval clawing away at my throat.

Gillian cocked her head in amusement at my silence and her lips curled up into a devious smirk. "What's the matter, boy," she asked, lifting a hand to the ascot around my throat and giving it a playful tug, "cat got your tongue?"

I couldn't hold back the screams any longer. My taciturnity seemed to be digging me a deeper hole in this situation. So I said the first thing that popped into my mind.

"How have you been?" The words did not come out nearly as smooth as I had planned. Instead, it was as if I had choked on them before I rudely spat them in her face. I quickly shoved my hands into my coat pockets to keep from palming myself in the forehead. My stupidity was overwhelming.

Gillian's brow furrowed, as if she was deep in thought. Judging by the look on her face, I could tell that she was combing through her mental library of men she had most likely fuc- 

"I don't believe I’ve ever met you before." Her response was one I had expected, though not one that I had hoped for. In fact, it felt as if my heart had simply caved in after hearing her words. The effect on me must have been great, for she now had a finger beneath my chin, lifting it so that our eyes would meet once more. Then something utterly unexpected occurred.

All of the color drained from Gillian's face as recognition set in and I could only have guessed how she felt.

Words could hardly describe the tension between us now. It was as though we were locked inside of a dark room and the walls were closing in on us. 

When my sister finally had the nerve to speak to me again, I knew this would be our last meeting. I knew that, from this point forward, I would break the ties that held us together; sever the bond of a brother and sister that never truly existed. I would do my absolute best to keep the selfish harlot out of my life and never look back on the decision with an ounce of regret.

“You haven’t changed one bit, Filly.”

Her response had only cemented this conclusion.

Today was the day that I would ascend from the comfort of adolescence and start to make my own decisions. I would douse the flame of insecurity that flickered inside of me and instead stoke the fires of independence that yearned for so long to mature. 

It would be no small feat to forget the only family that I had left, but I would not allow her to guilt me into the world in which she now resided. I was not clay to be shaped by the scarred hands of the Templar Order; the Order whose cause Gillian so hastily embraced. It was clear by the blood red cross emblazoned on a pendant about her neck.

Her perception of the world had been skewed, obscured, by the lies being fed to her daily. And I am not so naive that I would follow the dark path on which she currently tread.

“Neither have you,” I muttered solemnly in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece in 2012 and am considering adding another chapter to it. Who knows? Maybe I will, some day.


End file.
